


Occupied

by MademoiselleAbaisse



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: And Jehan reads dirty poems, Courf is a phone sex operator, Dirty Talk, Kink Meme, M/M, Modern AU, Strangers on a plane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 14:05:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MademoiselleAbaisse/pseuds/MademoiselleAbaisse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From this prompt on the Kink Meme:</p><p>"Person A is a nervous flier. Person B dirty talks A quietly throughout the flight they're on until A comes untouched.</p><p>If this is somehow a first time, either between strangers or friends, OP will fall at your feet, but established relationship is also awesome!"</p><p> </p><p>(Person A is Jehan, Person B is Courf.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Occupied

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just kind of on a one-shot roll today! I promise I'll update my series soon.

Jehan tried to stop his hands from shaking as he settled into his window seat. He absolutely hated flying. He had only flown two other times in his life, and from those experiences, he knew that A.) He would burst into tears upon the slightest hint of turbulence, and B.) The person unfortunate enough to be seated next to him always exited the flight very quickly, and for good reason. 

He was staring so intently at his lap, that he hardly noticed that the man who would be sharing the row with him had arrived. “Well, you certainly look excited for this flight to take off,” the other man said, causing Jehan to jump in his seat and look up to meet his gaze with wide eyes. “Woah. Woah. Didn’t meet to scare you, there. Jesus, I was joking, but if I actually scared you, you must really hate flying. I mean. I’m the most harmless bastard there ever was.” He smiled, extending his hand to the trembling man pressed up against the window. “I’m Courfeyrac.”

“Jehan,” Jehan replied, shaking his hand. “And you’re right. I absolutely despise flying. I just get this horrific sense of impending doom beforehand, which doesn’t go away until the plane is safe on the ground.”

Courfeyrac grimaced. “You do know that this is a four-hour flight, right? I mean…are you gonna be okay?”

In most situations, Jehan would have simply squeaked out a ‘yes’, and gone back to his quiet worrying. But something about this stranger intrigued him, and compelled him to answer honestly. “No. I mean…I’m not sure. And I apologize in advance for any sobbing, crying, et cetera that may occur within the span of those four hours.”

“You poor thing! I’d like to believe you were joking, but I can see it in your eyes- you’re dead serious right now. And please. Don’t feel the need to apologize to me before we’ve even left the ground.” He reached over to squeeze Jehan’s knee. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for. Some people are nervous fliers. Some people, myself included, get the shakes whenever we’re within close proximity to clowns-“ he paused, scanning Jehan’s face, to see if he would laugh. “Thanks for not laughing, by the way,” he interjected. “Because I seriously can’t stand clowns. I was afraid you would think that was a joke.”

Jehan shook his head. “Peoples’ fears are very real. Hardly a laughing matter.”

Courfeyrac smiled. “Exactly. You certainly have a way with words, little bird. You should be a poet or something.”

Now, Jehan was laughing. Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow. “Why are you laughing?” he asked curiously.

The smaller man shook his head, still chuckling. “Because I AM a poet or something. Well. I mean. A student of poetry and literature. I don’t know if I could quite call myself a poet…”

“Do you write poems?”

“Well, yes, but-“

“Then you’re a poet,” Courfeyrac smiled assuringly. “Simple as that. I, too, have a way with words. But not quite in the same manner as poetry.”

This cryptic remark made Jehan curious. “How might that be?”

Courfeyrac stretched out in his seat languidly, folding his hands behind his head. “Oh, I dunno if you want to hear about that. The business I’m in can be a bit of a nasty one at times. Hardly something for such delicate ears to hear.”

Jehan fumed a little at this, the aforementioned ears turning a shade of bright red. “Excuse me, I am not so delicate as I look. I’m not going to beg you to tell me what you do for a living, but I will tell you that I would like to know.”

“Would you, now?” Courfeyrac grinned, crossing his legs, looking over to Jehan. “Alright. I’ll tell you. I’m a phone sex operator.” He said with a shrug, rather unceremoniously. It sounded almost as if he had just told the younger man that he was a realtor, or something equally uninteresting.

Jehan tried to hide his surprise, but couldn’t keep himself from gaping. “You’re serious.” He stated. It wasn’t a question. “So you mean to say you…you get paid to-“

“To make people blow their lid, so to speak? Yeah.” Courfeyrac grinned. “I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

“No, no! Not at all!” Jehan protested, rummaging through his bag and pulling out a small, but battered book, placing it on Courfeyrac’s lap. “Here,” The dark-haired man picked it up and turned it over in his hands, his eyebrows raising in amusement when he read the title. “So you speak French, then?” Jehan asked, upon confirming that Courfeyrac understood the text.

“I do indeed,” Courfeyrac nodded, flipping through the book of erotic poems. “And these-“ he paused on a page with a particularly graphic illustration, “Are absolutely filthy.” He grinned, handing the book back to Jehan. “You were planning on reading this on an AIRPLANE? Next to a complete stranger?” Hmm. Naughty.

Jehan snorted. “I was not! I wasn’t just going to whip out a book of dirty poems and read them next to a stranger on an airplane…unless that stranger was incredibly cute.” He blushed furiously and looked away, and Courfeyrac was about to say something in response, but he was interrupted by the overhead speakers blaring with the pilot’s voice, running through the safety procedures. Jehan stiffened in his seat. “Shit,” he whispered. “I was so caught up in talking to you, that I forgot the imminent doom that was upon us.”

Now it was Courfeyrac’s turn to snort. “Imminent doom? Oh, little poet, ever the dramatic, aren’t we?” he murmured as the plane roared to life, and Jehan’s hands tensed on his armrests. “Clearly, you brought that book because you thought it would be a good distraction. Why not make use of it now?”

Jehan had turned a shade of ghostly white, his freckles standing out even more noticeably upon his cheeks. “Motion sickness,” he whispered. “I can’t read much of anything until we’ve reached a steady altitude. Until about an hour into the flight.”

Courfeyrac nodded for a moment, trying to think of the best way to address what the poet had said before they were so cruelly interrupted by the pilot. He leaned over towards Jehan, letting a hand rest gently on his thigh. He was usually quite forward with the objects of his attentions, so he thought nothing of it. “Have you ever heard of the Mile High Club, little one?” he murmured under his breath, only for Jehan to hear. The latter man nodded, two splashes of color returning to his cheeks. “Would you like to join it?” Courfeyrac asked, his voice husky and low.

Jehan shuddered visibly, taking the other man’s hand, and intertwining their fingers. “I’m tempted,” he said softly. “Very, VERY tempted. But…” he gestured to the light that designated that seatbelts must remain fastened. “Don’t tease me. That light isn’t going to turn off for a very long time. And by then, there will be a line for the bathroom, and-“

“I didn’t say anything about the bathroom,” Courfeyrac purred into the shell of his ear, and Jehan hardly registered the sensation of the plane lifting off the ground. His entire awareness was focused at the apex of his thighs, where a familiar tension was beginning to grow. The dark-haired man smiled at this, running his free hand over Jehan’s exposed collarbone. “You can’t have already forgotten my profession?” he murmured lowly, the vibrations traveling straight to Jehan’s cock. 

The little poet shuddered at the proposition. This stranger was attractive. Too attractive. And for the first time in his life, he wasn’t having a panic attack as the plane steadily gained altitude. He nodded, hoping that that was enough consent for the other man. Apparently it was, because Courfeyrac nuzzled his head into Jehan’s neck, so to an outside observer, he would appear to be sleeping: but in actuality, his wicked lips were brushed up against Jehan’s ear, poised and ready to spin sweet vulgarities into the poet’s head. “You look so sweet, do you know that?” he began, squeezing Jehan’s hand slightly. “It’s a shame we didn’t meet under different circumstances. Because GOD, what I wouldn’t give to take you to bed. To take you apart. You look like the type who would be wonderfully vocal. I bet it would be effortless to make you scream my name...” he smiled against the shell of Jehan’s ear. Oh, he was enjoying this too much. He felt himself growing hard at the mere suggestion of taking the smaller man apart, piece by piece, making him moan, making him scream… “And you’re so little…so precious,” he continued in a low purr. “I bet you’re hiding a massive cock under all of your unassuming grace, aren’t you?” he stole a glance down at Jehan’s lap, grinning to see that his prediction had been correct. “Oh, I was right, wasn’t I?” he whispered gleefully, shifting in his seat to accommodate his own growing arousal. “Look at you. I’m not kidding, look down at yourself right now. Shamelessly hard for me. You have no idea how difficult this is- to look, and not touch…god, those jeans are so tight. You can just see EVERYTHING right now. How hard you are. How HUGE you are- God, Jehan…” his breath was becoming ragged and he was actually GASPING. This was rare for Courfeyrac. He got turned on very rarely when he did this with clients…but now, something was different. Something about the poet had him writhing in his seat, furiously wishing it were socially acceptable to palm himself on an airplane. “Do you know what I would do to you? If we weren’t on this fucking airplane, and I could take you home?”

“Mmm?” Jehan whimpered in response.

“I would pin you down against my bed and kiss you. Everywhere. Every inch of skin, except for where you need it most. I would cover your entire body in kisses, except for two places. Do you know where those might be?” Jehan had a guess, but not the means to vocalize it. Realizing this, Courfeyrac hummed in contentment. “Your lips…and your cock. No, I wouldn’t kiss you there until you were absolutely begging for it, or completely incoherent. Whichever one happens last. I would capture your lips in mine and suck your breath away, bite at your lips until they’re red and swollen, until you’re gasping for breath. And finally, finally when I wrapped my lips around your cock, you would be so desperate for it, that you would cry out. Oh, I’m so good with my tongue. I could make you scream in a matter of minutes.” Jehan shivered, biting back a moan, his hips twitching forward of their own accord. “And you know what? Do you know what I would let you do, Jehan? I would let you bury your fingers into my hair and pull. And I would let you fuck yourself with my mouth: I don’t have a gag reflex, you know. You could push me all the way down to the base, and I wouldn’t even choke.” This time, Jehan couldn’t hold back the whimper that threatened to escape his lips. “Do you want me to touch you, Jehan?” Courfeyrac purred, his breath hot against the poet’s ear. 

The little man nodded desperately. “I-I so wish you could, right here…right now…”

Courfeyrac sighed contentedly. “I know…I know. I wish I could, too. But I really don’t fancy getting arrested, because I’m fairly certain they would put us on a no-fly list. And while that might be a relief for you, it would be quite the inconvenience for me. But trust me…if I could, I would have been in your pants five minutes ago. And if I had gotten ahold of your cock five minutes ago? We would most definitely have a mess on our hands by now.” This drew a shudder from the smaller man. “As good as I am with words, little one, with my mouth and my hands together, I am deadly.”

Jehan was humping the air now, try as he might to conceal his movements. “God…Courfeyrac…” 

“If you really think so,” Courf replied with a smirk. “You know these aren’t just empty words, right?” he said after a moment.  
“Hmm?” Jehan asked, looking over at him with heavily lidded eyes.

“I’m not just saying these things…”he reiterated, biting his lip. “I mean them. Every single word. I mean…shit. Look at what you’re doing to me.” He uncrossed his legs to show the little poet what he had been concealing between them, and Jehan’s eyes grew wide.

“Oh,” he gasped, his auburn lashes fluttering shut against warm, freckle-spattered cheeks. 

“See? You’re doing to me EXACTLY what I’m doing to you,” Courfeyrac cooed softly. “The only difference is, you haven’t said a word. God, I wish I could verbalize what you’re doing to me right now…normally I’m very well-behaved in public, I assure you: but you make me want to lean over and suck you off right now. Just…anything. Anything to touch you…God, I want to touch you so badly. Look at me, Jehan. Look how hard you’re making me….Jesus….Forget what I said about the bathroom. As soon as that seatbelt light turns off, I’m dragging you in there, and I’m going to get you out of those impossibly tight pants, and I’m going to take us both in my hand at once, and it won’t even matter who comes first, because god, Jehan, it’s going to be over so fast. I’m already so close, and you haven’t even touched-“

But his sentiment was interrupted as Jehan’s entire body quaked in the seat beside him, and the poet was biting his lip to keep from audibly moaning. He felt the white-hot tension in his stomach unfurl all at once, and he came with a whimper, feeling the warm, sticky sensation spreading across the front of his jeans. Courf’s eyes grew wide, and he couldn’t help but palm himself at the sight. “Oh my GOD…” Jehan managed to whisper, his hips twitching with an aftershock. “Fuck…I haven’t done that since I was a teenager…” he chuckled, shaking his head weakly. “And even then, I had the excuse of being asleep.”

Courfeyrac managed to ignore his erection long enough to smile. “Oh, yeah? So then should I say ‘I’m sorry’, or ‘You’re welcome’?”

“’You’re welcome’ for the orgasm. And the distraction. But ‘I’m sorry’ for the fact that I’m going to have to spend the rest of this flight much stickier than I would like to be.”

The dark-haired man laughed. “Let me make it up to you. Have you got plans for when we land?” Jehan shook his head. “Now you do. I’m taking you to dinner. I’ll even let you change first. Even though I bet your ass looks amazing in those jeans…”

Jehan shoved at his arm playfully as the seatbelt light went off. “Will you just go take care of that thing already?” he chuckled, gesturing at Courfeyrac’s lap. “If you don’t, it’s going to distract me from my filthy poetry for the rest of the flight!”

Courf nodded, unbuckling his seatbelt in a flash and adjusting himself before he stood up. “You don’t have to tell me twice!” he said with a nod, and Jehan blushed down at his lap, pulling his discarded hoodie over the wet spot. “Oh, and Little One?” Jehan looked up at the use of his new nickname, and Courfeyrac pressed a swift kiss to his lips, before smiling, and disappearing to the lavatory. He breathed a sigh of relief and began to slide a hand down his pants as soon as the door was shut behind him, and the latch was turned to ‘Occupied’.


End file.
